


don't leave my side yet (you promised me forever)

by misszuipperips



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Not a Happy Story, i need to stop writing sad things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misszuipperips/pseuds/misszuipperips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunt goes drastically wrong, and Michael should have known better than to tie himself to a fragile and breakable human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't leave my side yet (you promised me forever)

Michael had assumed that Dean could handle himself on a hunt. The human had been hunting for a long time (from a human’s perspective, at least) before Michael had even entered the picture. Still, he can’t help but want to watch over Dean and ensure he’s safe. He’d gotten caught the first time he’d tried to do it, and now he’s banned from trailing behind Dean invisibly on a hunt.

                            (Apparently, he scares the monsters away before they can be killed.)

He waits for the Winchesters to return, which they don’t. Michael frowns and checks the phone that Dean forced him to have. He listens to the flood of incoming prayers, searching for Dean or Sam’s voice.

        —When he doesn’t hear anything, he gets rather  _concerned_.

He’s not worried; Dean’s a _hunter_ , and he can handle himself. Sam’s there as well, so Michael has no need to fret. He can’t help but go to tug on their bond, worry officially sparking up when he gets nothing in return.

He vanished from the motel, and he reappears at the edge of the forest that the Winchesters were searching through. He stretched his Grace out desperately, distress building when he found the presence of what they were hunting but not of Dean.

He finds Sam, and he gets Sam out of the forest without a word. He just presses a finger to Sam’s forehead and forces him to reappear at the motel room that Michael had to endure waiting in.

It took him a few more precious minutes, but he found Dean’s soul.

                                                  (It seemed so much dimmer; it was like a fading star.)

He flies to Dean’s side (literally), and finds his human dead.

       Michael lands there just as the bond crumbles; he arrives just as Dean’s soul  **vanishes**  from his body.

He doesn’t believe it at first— Dean  _can’t_  be dead. He’s Dean Winchester, and Michael’s supposed to be able to bring him back with a touch, right?

                                    -- _Wrong_ , apparently.

He watches Dean’s body with wide eyes, and he stands as still as a statue. It hasn’t fully sunk in yet, but the splinters of the broken bond dig into Michael’s Grace to tear a new hole where the space for Dean’s love had been.

    He closed his eyes, and then when he opened them, Dean was still there.

          Dean was still  **d e a d**.

Michael screamed— a raw sound, the kind of noise that one makes when there are no words left to describe the pain that runs through their veins. He _cried;_ tears ran down his borrowed skin for the first time since Lucifer had Fallen.

He only stopped screaming when his lungs ran out air. Then he started to scream with his true voice, the noise of it loud enough to carry all the way out of the forest and into the town neighbouring the forest.

            Then he fell to his knees and let his Grace twist out and smite any and all non-humans (aside from himself) within the area of the forest.

"You’re not allowed to be dead!" he finally yelled, grabbing Dean’s limp corpse and shaking it like the hunter was only unconscious.

           ”I— I  **refuse**! Wake up, Dean! I’ll never forgive you for this!”

He dropped Dean’s body, the splinters turning into daggers that felt like they were ripping Michael apart in Dean’s absence.

           “You were meant to  _tell me_  when you were in trouble!”

He screamed again, fists slamming against the ground.

    "It’s not funny any more; just wake up now, Dean," he said to the bloodied corpse, faking a smile. "Joke’s over."

`            (But Dean didn't wake up.)`

"Wake up, Dean," he said more forcefully, grabbing the body by the shoulders.

                  “—I said,  _wake up_!”

_Nothing_ , still.

                         ”Please,” he pleads, crying once more.

    "Don’t do this to me, Dean. Don’t you  ** _dare_**.”

He sat by Dean’s corpse for a few more hours, trying to ignore the buzz of Dean’s phone— Sam must have worked out the fact that something had gone wrong.

     Eventually, he answered it.

"Sam," he greeted, his voice wearier than ever. "Get in the impala, and drive to the next town. Do it now— no, don’t argue— Dean’s fine, I promise—" ( _a necessary lie_ , he told himself) “—just drive as far as you can, and don’t you _dare_ stop.”

                 He hangs up, throwing the phone away and lying down next to what used to be his Dean.

He sighed, looking at the hunter one last time. He smiled faintly, his wings flaring out. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his Grace. He grabbed a hold of it, and then he started to  **r i p**

_it_

                                                                      apart.

He kept ripping and yanking and tearing until he did enough damage. Then he sat back (metaphorically, for he still lay next to Dean’s body) and let his Grace explode with enough power to level the surrounding five miles of forest.

                    (It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam found a newspaper article describing an extremely unusual event where trees had been knocked down as if strong winds had gone through the area in a circle. He read it, learning that, in the exact middle of the circle, police had found two unidentified male corpses. One had wings burnt into the ground, the other looked like he’d been attacked by a wild animal.)


End file.
